


The Warrior

by icybluepenguin



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icybluepenguin/pseuds/icybluepenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has his way with you (his mistress) after a long battle; a kind of Loki/Coriolanus mashup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend after we were talking about what Loki would be like with Coriolanus’ body and armor (I don’t even remember how we got on that topic, lol). So, have a Coriolanus!Loki one shot. Pretty much all smut, written quickly, and probably the craziest thing I’ve ever shared yet.

You sit in his tent, anxiously awaiting his return.  You had volunteered to come with him on this campaign, knowing it would be a long one and you didn’t want him finding a camp follower to warm his bed.  Battles made him extremely horny afterwards and you weren’t about to let another woman enjoy  _that_.  He hadn’t wanted to go at all, since the place they were defending somehow blocked his magic- he had explained it to you but all you gathered was it had to do with the geology of the world.  It meant he would be as vulnerable as any other soldier on the battlefield, although he still had his grace and skill with spear and knife.  Thor had practically begged him to come along and he agreed eventually.  You try not to worry about him in the clash of battle, but you pace the tent and bite your nails all the same.

 

There is the sound of shifting fabric and you turn towards the flap of the tent.  No one is there and you make a face in disappointment.  The tent is dark, only lit by a brazier in the center, and you are surrounded by constantly shifting shadows.  As you turn away from the flap, you suddenly freeze.

He steps out from the shadows slowly, the light sliding over the harsh planes of his face.  He is nothing but muscle and sinew now- unable to use his magic, he’s gotten much stronger, hard muscles rippling under his new armor.  He is still lean, but fierce, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut and his jaw often clenched in anger.

You jump back when he appears, startled, and a small smirk shows on his face as he approaches.  You take in his whole body, checking him over for obvious injury.  He is so tall and his new armor highlights that.  Tight leather pants hug his legs, molding to his hard thighs.  No extra fabric to catch or snag in battle.  His torso is covered by a flexible, segmented breastplate that originally had gold tracery decorating it but it has long since worn off, fitting over a snug shirt.  He has rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, which would reveal strong forearms in which you swear you can see every tendon, if weren’t for the bracers he wore, ending in half-fingered leather gloves.  He is stunning in an entirely different way than when he wears his robes or even his ceremonial armor.  Raw.  Primal.  Dominant.

Loki looks you up and down as you do him.  When he raises his gaze back to yours, his eyes are hard and full of fire.  There is no mischief, no gentleness in him tonight and warmth spreads through your body at the thought of what he might do to sate his needs.

"Undress me," he growls.

You close the few remaining feet between you, reaching up to untie the green scarf that keeps the armor from chafing his neck.  You run your fingers gently over his throat, blowing cool breath across the damp revealed skin until his jaw clenches.  You touch the buckles of his breastplate next.  They are caked with grime and blood and your fingers slip as you try to pull apart the buckles.  After two such fumbles, he grabs your wrist, yanking you closer.

"I said, undress me.  Hurry up about it.  I am not in a patient mood."  He looks down on you, his eyes flashing with anger and then lust as he looks at your cleavage.  He releases your wrist with a flinging motion.  "If you are incapable, I’m sure I can find someone else…"

You shake your head quickly.  ”Forgive me, my prince, the buckles are a little stiff- but I will hurry,” you finish in a rush as you see him grit his teeth.  You return to the buckles, digging at them with your fingernails until you can get them undone.  You can hear his breath heavy above you and you’re sure he’s watching you like a hawk, but you are focused on your task.  Once the last buckle falls free, your fingertips smarting from prying at them, you carefully remove the breastplate and place it on the desk to be tended to later.

You return to him, unfastening his bracers and putting them next to the breastplate.   His fists clench briefly, showing off the taut muscles in his arms as you reach out for his hand to remove the gloves.

"Leave those."

With a demure nod, you help him pull the linen undershirt over his head.  You wonder what he plans, why he wants the gloves on instead of being able to touch your skin.  You can’t help but think about what the leather would add to one of his spankings and the thought makes you smile as you sink to your knees.

Tilting your head so he can see your face, you run your hands up his legs, slowly, and then behind him to knead his hard cheeks for a moment, then moving back down.  You remove his boots one at a time, setting them aside so that the doesn’t fall off them onto the floor.  Now is the part you’ve been waiting for since you saw him.  Your body feels overly warm in the cool tent as you raise up on your knees, trailing your hands up his legs to rest on the backs of his tense thighs.

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you rub your face lightly over the bulge in his pants.  You can tell he is not completely hard yet, but he will be soon.  Catching his eye briefly, you find the laces of the cod piece with your teeth.  You tug slowly, the string held between your teeth delicately.  The next lace is treated the same and you can feel him hardening as the fabric loosens, his breath coming quicker.  It falls away and his half-erect cock is in your face.  You quickly push his pants down his legs.

Your lips brush over the bare skin of his thighs, inching closer and closer to his erection.  He huffs, impatient, and grabs a fistful of your hair to drag your head up.  You flick your tongue against his tip, still doing your best to tease him although you know he will take control any moment.  And in the next breath he does, pulling your head closer and twisting his fingers tightly in your hair until your mouth falls open to complain.

He thrusts forward, filling your mouth before you can make a sound.  ”Yes,” he hisses.  ”Finally you behave as you should.  You kept me waiting for your lips far too long, girl.”  

You cannot respond, only press your tongue to the underside of him as he moves in and out.  A deep thrust into your mouth nearly makes you gag before you remember to relax your throat.  His other hand tangles in your hair as well, dragging your head up and down his length as his hips buck, driving him into your mouth with almost no regard for you.  You grasp the base of his cock, trying to control the depths of his thrusts, but he smacks your hand away with a warning growl.

"This is what you get for all your teasing, girl."  His voice is hoarse, ragged from fighting and shouting all day.  The sound of it makes you clench your thighs together, feeling the beginning of the ache that you know will soon drive you crazy.  His next words rush through you with a wave of heat and the ache increases sharply.  "I know you can take it all.  Oh yes… that’s my good girl."

You shiver, a new slow throb starting up between your legs.  He slows his pace, allowing you more chance to breathe between strokes, but his hands still grip your head tightly to keep you in his control.  The leather of his gloves gives him better purchase than normal and you cannot move as he fucks your mouth with the occasional hard thrust to remind you of your place.  The feel of him sliding in and out, the smooth skin slick and wet with your saliva, makes you wiggle your hips, desperate for friction against your clit.  Moisture drips down your chin, but you don’t dare wipe it away.  Instead, you sneak a hand to his balls, cupping and rubbing firmly behind them, letting his grip on your skull hold you upright.  He thrusts harder again, your cheeks hollowed around him, unable to stop the slurping sounds as he withdraws and returns, unable to do anything but clutch his thigh with your free hand, at his mercy for even your breath.

He takes a large step back, cock slipping from your lips so suddenly that you try to follow it, falling forward onto your hands and gasping for breath.  You miss the feel of him in your mouth and against your tongue even as you move your jaw to prevent soreness.  You wait, on all fours and head bowed, breath more steady now, for his next order.  You are impatient, the ache between your thighs impossible to ignore.  If you were home, you would lunge for him, pull him to the ground and straddle him to relieve your need with abandon and he would laugh and revel In your eagerness.  But he is different here in this place, primal in his desire and needing your complete submission.  And you were very willing to give it to him.

"Touch yourself for me," comes his quiet, steely command.  "Kneel and spread your legs so that I can watch you."

"Yes, sir," you murmur as you sit back on your heels, spreading your knees as far apart as you can.  You ruck up your thin linen shift around your waist, displaying your plump, damp folds to him.  You feel so exposed, vulnerable, as your hand drifts down your breast and stomach.  You’ve done this before, with him watching, but now he is staring at you with a fire and intensity you’ve never experienced before.  

Your middle finger dips slowly between your lips, surprising even yourself at how wet you are from his treatment.  You stroke yourself with one finger, trying to tune out the heat in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches.  You drag your finger up and circle your clit, brushing over it once and your body tensing for a split-second at the sensation.  You close your eyes, ever so lightly teasing yourself again before moving lower to slide a finger inside.

"Did I not tell you I am impatient tonight, girl?"

His fierce growl jolts you back, your eyes snapping open and breath catching.  He has moved a little closer to stand with his legs spread and his chin tilted to look down on you even more, towering over your kneeling form on the floor with your fingers buried in your dripping sex.  You have never felt so intimidated yet aroused, the height difference accentuating the power he has over you.  

"I want you to bring yourself to the edge, girl, but don’t come.  You’ll regret it."  His voice brooks no dissent, his eyes holding yours for another moment until you drop yours to his strong jaw.

You let your gaze trail down his neck to his stark collarbones.  You want to lick them, nip at them, dip your tongue into the hollows underneath.  You rub a finger on either side of your clit, trapping it between them.

His chest is hard and smooth, unmarred by scars, his nipples taut little circles in the cool tent.  The muscles in his arms flex as he clenches his fists, watching you.  You trace the line of his thick biceps down his arm, past the tendons standing out in his forearm.  Your fingers move faster on yourself, breath quickening, as your eyes take in his slim hips, the shape of them leading you to watch his cock erect against his stomach.  His thighs are as hard and tense as his cock, and you imagine them clenching under you as you straddle his lap and your hips buck into your hand.  You rub faster, harder, losing yourself in the fantasy.

You are so close, tension coiling in your body, begging for release, every nerve ready to fire in bliss.  Just a few more strokes would… Your desire, no, your  _need_  to follow his orders, to earn his praise, to please him, outweighs even the consuming need for relief.  With a desperate groan, you force your hand away from your clit, clenching your hand into a fist in frustration.  

"Good girl," he purrs in a deep voice.  "So obedient.  Now, do it again."  He steps even closer, reaching down to grasp the neckline of your shift and ripping it with little effort.  The fabric falls to your waist, leaving you bare.  He is holding his cock in his hand.  You watch as he strokes it with deliberate motions, the tip leaking fluid.  

With a shuddering breath, you return your fingers to your folds, not sure if you can take another near-orgasm.  But his praise is ringing in your ears and fluttering in your stomach and you cannot disobey.  As you start to move, he traces the tip of his cock down your cheek.  You feel the wet trail left behind, cooling in the air, even as he moves it down your neck, shifting himself to bring it to your breast.  He is painting you, marking you, drawing incomprehensible patterns on your warm skin in precome, pausing occasionally to stroke himself.  A small moan escapes your lips as the head of his cock circles your nipple, carefully not touching the bud, until you whimper and thrust your chest closer to him.  He moves to your other breast, drawing his way across the gap, his eyes narrowed.  

The unusual, velvety-wet sensations of his cock on your skin and his careful attention is hurrying you towards another orgasm, sure to be denied but you cannot stop until you’re on the edge as he told you.  His cock brushes against your cheek, your nose, your lips, and your tongue darts out to taste him but he pulls away.

"Greedy, eager little harlot, aren’t you?"  He glares down at you, looking extremely fed up with you.  He grasps your chin tightly with his free hand, tilting your face so you have nowhere to look but his eyes.  They are blazing with desire but also frustration.  He lets go of himself and pulls your hand from your clit, and you keen at the loss of friction.  His grip on your wrist is firm as he brings it up.

"Open," he hisses, punctuating the order with a squeeze of your chin. You part your lips, hoping for his cock again, for him to fuck himself to completion in your mouth, but he shoves your own fingers in.  "Suck those clean."

He watches again as you hollow your cheeks, feeling your jaw move as he holds your chin, that fiery intense look in his eyes as if he can see into your soul, stripping away your facade and seeing you for what you truly are underneath.  You shiver under his gaze, hoping he doesn’t find you wanting, that if he can see your soul that he likes what he finds.  You stroke your tongue over your fingers, mouth filled with the taste of yourself, until he again pulls your hand away and pats your head like a favored pet.

"Stand up."

You stand, stumbling slightly from your stiff joints.  It has been a while since you’ve spent so much time on your knees, at least on such a hard floor.  Loki sees and smirks, a familiar expression even if it is tinged with impatience tonight.  You shimmy out of the remains of your shift, swaying the way you know he likes, letting the tatters slide over your hips to the floor.

"Lean over the cot."

You walk quickly to the wooden cot and lean over it.  It’s very low, just like a regular soldier’s cot, but larger and sturdier for a Prince.  You brace your arms on the thin mattress, tilting your ass up enticingly.  You feel the cool, smooth leather of his gloves caressing your skin and you tense in anticipation of a slap.  Your breathing is ragged- you want the stinging pain and low burn of a spanking to cut through the haze of your arousal, you want him rough and demanding.

The slap never comes, to your disappointment.  You can hear a dark, low chuckle behind you.  He can read your body so well-  he knows exactly how much you want him to whip his hand across your ass.  He steps up behind you and rubs his cock along your wet sex.

"What do you want, girl?" he growls, hands clamping down on your hips.

"I want you to fuck me, sir," you manage, certain that you could come from just his rocking motion if only he would stop changing the rhythm.

Another dark chuckle and he leans over you to hiss in your ear, breath hot on your skin.  ”That’s not all you want, is it, my girl?  Tell me all of it, beg me for it.”

You groan, his voice in your ear flooding your whole body with new warmth.  ”I… please, I want you to fuck me like- like your slut, just use me, fuck me hard…”  You can’t stand to be teased any more.  Your whole body feels on edge, jangling and twitching, desperate for whatever will push you over the edge.

"Is that so?"  He sounds almost amused, his lips moving from your ear to the back of your neck.  "Shall I use your body for my pleasure?  Take you the way I want, hard and fast, no thought to your enjoyment?"  He brushes delicate kisses over your spine, the light touch at odds with his words.  "Are you sure you want me to use you as my little slut, girl?  Want my cock buried so far in you that you cannot stand, want my hands bruising your flesh, want me to whisper filthy things in your ear as you try to form the word ‘mercy’ with ragged breath?"

You whimper.  ” _Yes_ , yes please, sir.”

In a swift motion, he is inside of you.  Your back arches, shoving your ass towards him as you keen in fulfillment.  Finally, finally the teasing is done and his hips slam against you in a punishing pace.  You try to brace yourself, he is so strong and each stroke would send you sprawling across the cot if it weren’t for his tight grip on your hips.

He already has you dancing on the edge.  He is pounding into you with abandon and every time he sheathes himself in you, you feel him hit something that makes your body jolt with pleasure and a hint of pain when he goes too deep.  Tonight it is just what you want, an intoxicating blend of bliss and hurt, making you whimper and writhe with your hands fisted in the sheets.  

"Do you like that?  Do you like me using you, fucking you as if you were nothing?"  His voice is thick with lust, his breath harsh behind you when you buck against him in response.  Yes, yes you love it but you can’t form the words, all that emerges is a gasp and a moan.

He leans over you, pulling your hair roughly to the side with one hand and biting at your neck and shoulder.  ”Good little whore,” he pants in your ear between bites.  ”I’ve wanted you all day, just like this.  Mine, all mine, so hot and slick for me.”  A particularly hard nip makes you cry out. “That’s it, yell for me, scream for me.  I want everyone to hear you, hear how you beg me to own you, how much you want me to use you.”

He straightens, pulling away from your neck and now, now his leather-clad hand whips across your ass.  You shriek in surprise, convulsing around him.  He does it again and again, sending you higher and higher as heat spreads over your skin.  He’s not holding back and you can feel the extra muscle behind each smack.  You are so close- the feeling of being used, of being his plaything is nearly enough to push you over the edge.  But not quite.

He leans over you again, his panting breath hot in your ear.  ”Touch yourself, slut.  If you want to come, do it yourself, I don’t care.  Make yourself come around my cock.”

You try to shift your weight to one arm, try to bring a hand to your aching clit, but his thrusting is making it too hard to balance.  You growl in frustration, nearly in tears from the need to climax.

"What’s wrong?  Having trouble, girl?"  Even through his heavy breathing, you can hear the mischief in his voice.  He knows he is riding you too violently to allow you to bring yourself off in this position.

"Please, sir, help me come, I can’t do it," you plead in a broken, gasping voice, bracing yourself harder on the cot.  "Please let me come around you…"

"I don’t know if I should…"  He bites your shoulder hard.  "After all, you wanted me to use you like a toy, why should I care if you are satisfied?"

"Think how good it will feel for you, sir, gripping around you…" you whimper.  His mouth is all over your neck, licking, biting, sucking.

His hand snakes between your legs.  ”Ah, you’ve convinced me.”  He rubs your clit roughly and you moan.  ”I want you to come, hard, and don’t keep me waiting, girl.  Be good for me, come for me now…”

With a strangled scream, your body seizes up, your eyes shutting and hands clenching. Waves crash and break over you, consuming you as he smashes his hips into you over and over.  Stars dance behind your eyelids, beckoning you deeper, deeper, deeper, until with a shuddering breath you come back to yourself, head hanging limply and arms shaking.

His thrusts are becoming erratic, his grip on your hips tighter.  You’re glad for it, even though it hurts, because you’re sure that grip is the only thing keeping you from collapsing.  You listen to his grunts and gasps through his gritted teeth, a beautiful symphony behind you that fills you with joy.  With a loud cry, he sheathes himself as deeply as he can go, holding still while his own climax washes over him.

You are unsteady, barely able to lower your stunned body to the cot with any grace when he pulls away.  He collapses beside you, his chest heaving and sweat slicking his skin.

"Good girl," he murmurs as he regains his breath.  "You are such a good girl for me."

A slow smile spreads across your face at his praise.  Languid and heavy, you touch his arm, tracing the contours of hard muscle.  When you reach his hand, you finally remove his glove, bringing his palm to your mouth for a tender kiss, then repeating the process with the other hand.  The world seems a little fuzzy on the edges and you’re having trouble kept your eyes open until he speaks again with a hint of laughter.

"I need a bath.  And after  _that_ , so do you, my sweet.”


End file.
